


I play you on repeat

by Raehimura



Category: Pacific Rim (Movies)
Genre: Begging, Deepthroating, Edgeplay, Hermann likes the messy sciences more than he lets on, Knifeplay, M/M, Medical Kink, Newt uses a scalpel, No Blood, PWP, Rimming, Science Kink actually?, This Is Why We Can't Have Nice Things, Trust Kink
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-09
Updated: 2018-12-27
Packaged: 2019-09-15 06:40:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,431
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16928367
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Raehimura/pseuds/Raehimura
Summary: "Of all the things Newt had assumed about Hermann and sex — and you make a lot of assumptions about someone when you fantasize about them for nearly a decade — the one he least expected to be wrong about was Hermann’s lack of experience."Kinky, smutty shorts written for Kinktober. All Newmann themed.(Adding to tags as I go, specific kinks in the chapter titles.)





	1. Day 1: Deep-throating

**Author's Note:**

> I skipped around to just the days I liked, and I still didn't finish most of them, so this is my push to get them done and share them with you. Hopefully before the end of the year, cause that still counts, right? :)

Of all the things Newt had assumed about Hermann and sex — and you make a lot of assumptions about someone when you fantasize about them for nearly a decade — the one he least expected to be wrong about was Hermann’s lack of experience. 

It wasn’t that Hermann had more of a sexual history than he expected, because the man had definitely been every bit as repressed as his sweater vests screamed. But Newt had expected that lack of experience to make Hermann shy, unsure, maybe even fearful. Newt had imagined (often, lovingly) how he would coax his partner out of his shell if they ever got that far. How was he to know that, once given permission, Hermann would turn out to be … voracious.

Oh well. Sometimes having your theory proved wrong was the best part.

Hermann was currently proving him wrong in demonstrative fashion, pushing Newt through the door into his quarters without a word, face intent and severe. It was a look that promised either a ravishing or a throttling, but Newt didn’t think he’d done anything particularly annoying that day — then again, he hadn’t done anything particularly sexy either …

But he must be doing something right, because Hermann was on him the moment the door crashed shut behind them, dropping his cane to curl his fingers into Newt’s shirt and tug him forward into a kiss that went from zero to filthy fast enough to make his head spin. 

Let it never be said Newt doesn’t pull his weight. He kissed back, hungry, like it had been months and not hours since they’d last done this. They pressed together and drank each other in for long moments, Newt happily getting a palmful of Hermann’s terribly cute, admittedly flat ass. But when he set fumbling fingers to the task of getting into Hermann’s pants, Hermann leaned back and blinked at him.

“Ah, actually …” Hermann hesitated, but only briefly. Embarrassed, but eager. “I was hoping to try a little experiment tonight.”

Newt’s eyelashes fluttered, and he didn’t even mind the shameless pitch of his voice when he promised, “Anything.”

There was a blush on Hermann’s face then, but he just cleared his throat and leaned in to say, all husky and right into Newt’s ear, “Lie down.”

Newt practically jumped to comply, already half-hard without a touch. Hermann gestured for him to lie on his back, propped up slightly on the headboard, and Newt went for extra credit by shimmying out of his jeans before settling in. Hermann tracked him with sharp eyes, and Newt shivered at the feeling of having all the power of that genius mind focused squarely on him.

For a long moment Hermann just stared at him, eyes dark and predatory, and Newt failed utterly to stop himself from shifting against the mattress. Just when he couldn’t stand the taught moment any longer, breathing in to fill the silence with something sure to be utterly stupid, Hermann climbed carefully onto the bed and settled himself between Newt’s legs.

His breath stuttered out of him in a sharp jolt when Hermann placed one long, graceful hand against the crease at the top of his thigh and looked up at him with a shy smile.

“Oh, Herms, you-” Newt cut off with a shudder, an honest to god full body shudder, when Hermann stroked his fingers across the delicate skin and stopped just short of touching his cock, which twitched once and _oh god Hermann was licking his lips and sizing him up and was he going to-?_

Newt whined, high in his throat, and twisted both hands in the sheets to keep from getting grabby. Hermann leaned closer, breath ghosting over the head of his very interested cock.

“Is this alright?” he murmured, just before pressing his lips softly against his slit, where a bead of precum had gathered.

“Fuck yes,” Newt groaned with relish, trying and failing to stop himself from pressing his hips up needily. “Yes, absolutely, more than alright, oh my god Hermann, anything you want, _please_ …”

He’d barely touched him and already Newt was a writhing, begging mess. But who could blame him? The sight of Hermann perched between his thighs, staring him down like a fascinating math problem and ready to put that gorgeous, stern mouth to work. For him? Because of him?

They hadn’t been doing this long, and the thought of Dr. Hermann Gottlieb wanting him like this still sent him reeling.

But Hermann didn’t seem to mind his enthusiasm, judging by his little hum of approval before he leaned down in earnest. Then there was a tongue curling around his shaft, and soft lips stretched around his head, and he was surrounded by silky wet heat.

Hermann licked and sucked delicately, setting a languid pace, experimental but unexpectedly confident. Newt whined and shook and recited the components of the kaiju endocrine system in his head to keep from ending things prematurely. 

As Hermann gained confidence, he picked up the pace, bobbing intently and experimenting enthusiastically — the tip of his tongue, a low hum, the barest hint of teeth — and Newt took it all with an increasingly delirious abandon. 

He had to pry hands from the sheets to pet at Hermann’s cheeks and hair, clumsy but careful not to push or tug. Hermann moaned softly at his touch, leaning back to smear his lips messily along Newt’s slick head before returning to his task with abandon. Newt cursed and groaned and tensed all the way down to his toes.

Hermann was going down on him. Hermann was damn good at it. Hermann was _enjoying_ it.

Then Hermann looked up at him with smug challenge in his eyes, his lips stretched wide and red and slick around Newt, and he swallowed him down to the base without hesitation.

Thank god Hermann had his hips pinned, because Newt bucked up into his mouth uncontrollably, a groan ripped from his throat as he scrabbled at Hermann. His head was thrown back and his vision nearly whited out from the pressure and wet heat of Hermann’s throat, but he still heard the soft sound of him gagging, just once. Newt gasped in breath, gathering the last of his brain cells to push Hermann back, to ask if he was okay, to tell him not to push himself, really this wasn’t necessary …

But when he managed to pry his eyes open, Hermann was still staring up at him, all confidence. Newt tried to form words, any words, because he was certain there was something he was supposed to say right now. But he just watched mutely as Hermann closed his eyes, pressed down more firmly on Newt’s hips, and swallowed around him.

Newt came with a sound he was sure he’d never made before, and was equally sure everyone on their corridor had heard.

Reality skipped a few steps as he lay there, twitching and panting as pleasure ricocheted through him, and the next thing he knew, Hermann was inching up the bed toward him while wiping discretely at his mouth.

Newt grabbed his wrist and held his hand away from his mouth, grinning drunkenly, and pressed him back into the mattress with a famished kiss. Newt may have missed the sight of Hermann’s lips around his cock as he came, this time, but he certainly wasn’t going to miss a chance to taste that debauched mouth.

He nipped hungrily at Hermann’s spit-slicked lips, clutched wildly at his hair, and finally licked inside to taste that hint of what must be himself on Hermann’s oh-so-talented tongue. When Hermann groaned into the kiss, Newt leaned back to take in the picture of his straight-laced lab partner utterly ravished and staring up at him with an imperious, victorious tilt of his chin.

“You,” Newt tried to accuse, but his voice just sounded thick and overwhelmed, “You were basically a virgin two weeks ago!”

“I’m a quick study,” Hermann said, a tad smug. Newt’s orgasm-blown mind couldn’t even mind.

“You’re a menace.”

“I assume the experiment proved successful, then?” Hermann teased, clearly already sure of the answer.

Newt just smirked back and starting sliding down Hermann’s chest, hands already trailing to his zipper, “Let me show you just how much.”


	2. Day 2: Begging & Ass Worship

Hermann had been unsure but intrigued when Newt told him what he had planned for that night. He was certainly in a more vulnerable position than usual, stripped naked and draped over a foam support, ass in the air and open for Newt’s hungry eyes … and tongue and fingers.

To Newt’s delight, it had taken Hermann no time at all to lose his self-consciousness and relax in the wake of Newt’s gentle attention. They were in no rush, had nowhere to be now that the world was officially saved, and Newt intended to take the opportunity to completely, thoroughly, _slowly_ take Hermann apart — to show him just how much he deserves all of Newt’s affection and more.

That was 40 minutes ago. Newt is honestly impressed with Hermann’s resolve.

Oh, he was a pleasure-drunk mess alright, a languid mass of heavy limbs and low groans pressing back into whatever Newt gave him and grinding down wantonly on the support wedge below him. But he hadn’t begged or asked for more, hadn’t spoken except for moans of encouragement and Newton’s name.

Newt had been lazily fucking him with his tongue for the last ten minutes, just this side of not enough pressure, and Hermann had been shivering uncontrollably for the last five. Newt was just beginning to think he needed to verbally check in, when Hermann pressed back against him pathetically and breathed out in a broken sob.

“Newton. Newt. _Please_.”

Newt sat back but kept Hermann’s ass spread with both hands, trailing the pad of his thumb along the loose, slick muscles of his hole. 

“What do you need?” he murmured low, pressing a soft kiss to the small of Hermann’s back.

Hermann choked on a frustrated noise, flushed skin trembling and flexing as he writhed in desperation. “More. God, Newt, _liebling_ , I need you, I _need_ …”

At the sound of his voice — wet and breaking and positively weak — Newt hushed him softly, nuzzling into the soft skin of his back before kissing his way back down. “Hush, Hermann, it’s okay. I’ve got you, I’ll take care of you, don’t worry.”

“Please,” he begged again, just before Newt licked a long stripe from his balls to his hole, cutting off any further pleading with a strangled moan.

Newt wasted no time in sliding two fingers into Hermann where he was still loose and slick from the last time, but this time he had no interest in teasing. He circled his fingers until Hermann cried out, hoarse, and then set his fingers plunging in and out of him at a steady, implacable pace.

Hermann gasp and writhed and moaned utterly wantonly, clenching around Newt’s fingers and shoving back for just that little bit more friction. Newt kissed and nipped at the pale skin of Hermann’s ass and thighs as he fucked his fingers into him, then kissed his way over to lick along Hermann’s rim stretched around his fingers.

Hermann arched and hissed, grunting out something that maybe started as german but ended up sharp-syllabled gibberish. Newt spied one of his hands edging down to try to palm the dick wedged between Hermann and the support wedge, but he grabbed it before it could and entwined their fingers.

“Ah-ah, you know the rules, sweetheart,” Newt chastised fondly.

Hermann whimpered, bucking down harder and back against Newt’s fingers at a punishing pace. He shook, every breath coming out a shivery pant, as his whole body tensed. He was close.

Newt pushed his fingers in hard and deep, knocking a grunt loose from Hermann’s chest, before pulling out and shoving in again, as deep as he could. It only took three more thrusts of his fingers before Hermann clenched around him and cried out, thrashing, as he finally tipped over the edge.

Newt fucked him gently through it, until Hermann twitched and tried to pull away with a pathetic sound, flushed and weak and overwhelmed. Then Newt carefully pulled his fingers out, wiped them hastily on the sheets, and gently guides Hermann to roll over and off the support wedge. When he lies down beside him, Hermann immediately curls into him, and Newt gathers him easily against his chest.

Hermann nuzzled closer and cleared his throat as if to speak, but the only thing that come out was a vague “guh” sound.

“Shhhh,” Newt assured him, grinning stupidly into his fluffy hair. “Later.”

Newt pressed a gentle kiss to the crown of his head and settled in to thank his lucky stars that of all the infinite multiverse, he was in the one where Hermann was falling asleep in his arms.


	3. Day 3: Knifeplay

Newt’s hand shook when he first grasped the scalpel.

It was only the second time he’d been allowed to touch anything sharp since he’d been freed from Precursor control, and the first time he’d held one in this context in almost a decade. The context being safely ensconced in his and Hermann’s shared quarters, with a soft and smiling Hermann sitting on the bed and waiting patiently for him. Mostly naked.

They’d had quite a lot of sex before the fist war ended, and occasionally that sex had ventured into more adventurous territory. Hermann apparently had a thing for Newt’s skill with a scalpel, the look of concentration on his face while he dissected specimens, basically everything to do with Newt’s mastery of the “messy” biological sciences. And they both had an adrenaline kink a mile wide. It was an obvious fit.

But that had been ten years ago. Before the war ended. Before the Precursors.

Newt honestly hadn’t expected to live long enough to be freed from the hivemind. If he had, he certainly wouldn’t have expected to find anyone waiting for him after — especially not Hermann, after the way he’d treated him. After what he’d almost done.

But there Hermann had been, by his side every day of his slow recovery. And when Newt had finally been cleared, Hermann just … kept showing up. Sat beside him and held his hand and never pushed or even hinted at more. So of course Newt, despite his worst assumptions and best intentions, looked that miraculous gift horse right in the mouth and leaned over to kiss Hermann like nothing had changed.

It had been a process, and Newt was still terrified of basically everything, but Hermann had been unfailingly patient and unfailing  _there_ , and Newt had missed him so damn much all those years that even his fear and self-loathing couldn’t keep him from what Hermann was offering with such gentle steadiness.

And then came the night Hermann shyly asked if Newt ever thought about returning to their more adventures exploits. He’d made it perfectly, crystal clear that the decision was all Newt’s, but just talking about it had brought a vivid flush to his face, and god Newt wanted to give him everything. There was so much he couldn’t be for Hermann anymore, but if he could give him just one thing that he could before, just pretend things are normal for a little while … Well, that was worth a lot.

Which was all fine and good until Newt had a shaking hand wrapped around a freshly sterilized scalpel and was staring down the unbearably open, affectionate face of the last man on earth that still trusted him.

“Are we really not going to talk about it?” Newt had to ask, incredulous.

Hermann quirked an eyebrow at the unexpected question, but his voice never strayed from patient. “About what?”

“About how you’re an idiot!”

Oh. Newt hadn’t realized, but he was  _mad_. His hand tightened sickeningly on the scalpel.

That, at least, ruffled Hermann’s calm. “What in the world are you talking about, Newton?”

“How could you want me to do this?” Newt heard himself shriek, gesturing wide with the blade in his hand before flinching back and very deliberately dropping it onto the desk. “You know what I’ve been, what I’ve done. You  _watched_  me try to destroy the world and, in case you forgot, I almost killed you. So what the hell, man?”

It took a moment for Hermann to gather his words, and Newt could practically feel his outburst echoing in the quiet around them as he tried to steady his breathing.

“Newt,” Hermann said eventually, reaching out a hand, and Newt allowed himself to be pulled down to sit beside him, despite himself. “You know I don’t want to do anything that makes you uncomfortable. If you don’t want to do this, say the word, and we won’t.”

Hermann paused to lace their fingers together, but Newt just turned his head away. Hermann continued, voice as even and steady as when he explained an equation. “But as for me, it’s simple: I trust you. Completely. I would like the opportunity to demonstrate that to you, so that you never need question it again.”

Newt failed to fight back the tremor running through him, and he shook his head even as he curled into Hermann’s warmth at his side. “Just because the Precursors aren’t in control anymore, doesn’t mean everything is fine now. It’s not. I’m not.” He grimaced and squeezed Hermann’s hand. “My head is not a nice place to be. You think I’m myself again, but I’m not the guy you knew. I probably never will be.”

It wasn’t the first time they’d had this conversation, and it definitely wouldn’t be the last.

“You’re not the same man you were, that’s true,” Hermann acknowledged, his voice soft and confident and impossible not to listen to. “I never expected you to be. I’m not either. But you are still you, and I know you. You would never hurt me.”

“I did,” Newt choked.

“You didn’t.”

Newt breathed through it, counting the deep inhales the way his therapist taught him, until he could actually feel the trust in Hermann’s words. Maybe he couldn’t trust himself yet, but Hermann believed enough for the both of them.

“Okay.”

Hermann turned to press a quick kiss to his cheek, assuring. “We really don’t have to-”

Newt bumped his shoulder softly to interrupt. “I want to give this to you. Please.”

There was a shy smile on Hermann’s face when he nodded.

Newt clapped his hands together, hoping to channel some decisiveness, and stood up to waggle a finger at him.

“Okay, so, rules. No actual cutting,” he said quickly, hand straying back over to the scalpel. Then, after a beat: “Not this time. And if you get even a little uncomfortable, you safe word out, okay man? What’s your word?”

“Quadratic,” Hermann answered without hesitation.

That got Newt smiling again for real. “Nerd.”

Hermann just grinned back at him and asked, “How would you like me?”

Oh, let Newt count the ways. But for now, “Lie back.”

So he did, laying back and stretching out, all that pale skin on display for Newt’s greedy eyes. Remarkably unashamed where once he’d been so unsure, Hermann splayed himself comfortably and offered up every lean, sharp line of his body except the little bit of real estate hidden under pinstriped boxers (and Newt was still so stunned at the very sight of Hermann in any stage of undress that he hadn’t even managed to make fun of them).

Newt stared, unmoving, for a long time, and Hermann let him without complaint. But eventually Newt gathered his limbs (and his new sharp toy) and climbed into bed, oh so carefully straddling Hermann’s weight. This was not their first time by far, and Newt knew instinctively by now how to protect Hermann’s bad hip no matter how vigorous the activity, but in the moment, Newt could barely bring himself to settle any weight on his lap.

He felt cringing and hesitant, terribly awkward and not at all the sexy precise doctor he was meant to be in scenes like this. He could remember what this was supposed to be like, how this was supposed to go, but it was like a pair of pants from college that no longer fit. He almost called it off again.

But then Hermann’s broad hands settled on Newt’s hips and he shifted beneath him, subtly encouraging him to settle more comfortably, gazing up at him with eyes syrup-sweet and as steady as the metal walls around them. And suddenly Newt couldn’t really feel the awkwardness of ill-fitting expectations, not over the surge of warmth where they touched and the absolute, bewildering certainty that Hermann loved him.

So he let himself settle heavily against Hermann and was rewarded with a hitching of Hermann’s hips that brought with it a surge of heat. Newt stretched out over him, careful to press the hand with the scalpel into the far side of the mattress, and kissed him, slow and thorough. By the time he leaned back up, Hermann was flushed and breathing heavily.

Newt took a deep breath to steady his hand, then settled the scalpel into a familiar, precise grip. His eyes narrowed in concentration and never wavered from the glinting tip as he slowly brought it down to rest against Hermann’s breastbone, blade just barely touching skin.

Hermann hummed in the back of his throat, but his whole body stilled down to his toes, tense for a single suspended moment before he relaxed and opened utterly under Newt’s attention.

Newt rewarded him for his surrender by ghosting the scalpel down toward the soft hollow of his stomach, no longer the touch of the blade but the mere implication. Goosebumps prickled Hermann’s pale skin behind Newt’s steady, straight line.

Tracing the curve of his stomach, following the deep waves of his breath, Newt brought the blade skating over the sharp rise of Hermann’s hip bones and then down, to press a barely-there scratch down the meat of his scarred thigh. His eyes and his focus never wavered from the skin exposed beneath his tool, but Hermann’s sharp inhale brought a smile to his face nonetheless.

This. He remembered how to do this.

Newt pressed a fleeting kiss to the warm, pale skin of Hermann’s inner thigh before stretching out over him again. One hand slid up to entwine with Hermann’s own, the other expertly flipping the scalpel over to the blunt side, his grip flexing carefully to control the pressure as he pressed it more firmly to the skin over Hermann’s skeletal ribs.

Newt watched in careful, hungry, rapt fascination as the skin puffed up in bright pink scratches in his wake. Hermann groaned and shivered, placid and still even as he hardened swiftly under him. Newt belatedly realized he was hard himself, rocking against Hermann’s erection with helpless little movements.

Pulling the blade away from Hermann’s skin, Newt inspected the three fine scratches he’d left in perfectly symmetrical lines down his ribs, a mark to mar the unbroken pallor of his skin. Newt looked up to catch Hermann’s gaze, but his satisfied grin froze at what he saw there. Hermann stared up at him utterly relaxed, utterly unwound, nothing reflected there but hunger and patient and vulnerability. Trust, without reservation.

A strangled noise worked its way loose from Newt’s throat and suddenly he knew exactly what he needed, what they both needed, in that moment. He squeezed at Hermann’s hand to ground himself as he leaned down, pressing their foreheads together, sharing a breath as he brought the scalpel up to graze the soft skin at Hermann’s neck. Newt could feel the flutter of Hermann’s pulse beneath his knuckles, and his thumb splayed gently over his Adam’s apple for support, caressing skin that only a few weeks ago bore bruises in the shape of Newt’s fingers.

Newt held his breath for a quiet moment, thoughts burning through his mind too fast to catch, until Hermann breathed out a hoarse, “Newt” and tilted his head just so, just enough to further expose his throat and press a chaste kiss to Newt’s lips. A promise. A benediction.

“Fuck,” punched out of Newt on a broken groan, blinking back a suspicious wetness in his eyes. He pressed down for a deeper kiss as he tossed the scalpel carelessly away, heedlessly of it clattering to the floor as he ground down desperately into the man beneath him. “God, Hermann.”

Hermann roused seamlessly from his relaxed state, grabbing at Newt’s hair, his back, as he licked into his mouth and turned the kiss filthy, bucking up to meet the rocking of Newt’s hips. He clutched at the hand still entwined with his like a lifeline, and no matter how much Newt wanted to get both hands on him, he didn’t even consider pulling his hand away.

It didn’t take Newt long to free them both from their boxers and wrap his hand around the both of them, no need or desire to take things slow at this point in their game. The first shock of touch from Hermann’s cock and his own hand jolted through him like a shock. They were both impossibly hard, flushed red and slick with precum, and Newt could tell from the shivers wracking his chest that Hermann was as close as he was.

Newt jacked them both through it, pressed as closely as possible, messy kisses broken only by the occasional gasp for breath. In that moment, New would have gladly let Hermann consume him completely, pull him into his chest and erase all semblance of separation between them. He settled for clutching and kissing and pressing every part of him to every part of Hermann.

It wasn’t long before they were jerking and cumming against each other, grinding against each other even through the over-sensitive after shocks, mumbling brokenly against each other’s lips. Eventually, Newt collapsed to the side, a sweating, shaking mess. But Hermann didn’t let him go far, rolling with him to lay spread across his chest, face tucked into Newt’s flushed neck.

They lay together, catching their breath and settling from the after shocks. Newt pressed a kiss to Hermann’s head, and Hermann grabbed for his hand and pressed it to his chest just over the steady beat of his heart. And maybe neither of them could gather the words to say all the things that needed saying about trust and love, about redemption and faith. About a future they had given up on. 

But, then again, they’d never really been good with words, had they?


End file.
